


y=-(sin(x^(1.7/6)+4)+(1/x))+10

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler should really deal with his attraction in a more scientific method.</p>
            </blockquote>





	y=-(sin(x^(1.7/6)+4)+(1/x))+10

**Author's Note:**

> For the freckles square on my bingo card. I had to write about Colton. This is also a response to people who keep pointing me at pictures of Tyler Posey in very very nice glasses. I enjoy.

There must be an algorithm to account for it. Colton plus sun times hours equals a set amount of freckles. Tyler settled his glasses more firmly on his nose and wondered if it would be inappropriate to pull out the whiteboard and markers.

He likes visualising Math. He likes the security of neat rows of organised data, lined up. He likes his computer. But not when Colton is using it to show him YouTube videos of sloths. Baby sloths.

“And it just clings on! And it- Look! It’s all wet.” Colton devolved into baby gooing noises and Tyler tried desperately not to find it cute. Desperately. Colton leaned forward to click onto another video. Tyler tried to picture his whiteboard in his head. For someone with as many degrees as he had, he should be able to use visualisation much more successfully than he currently could. In the end, Tyler decided to blame that on the beer Colton had brought over and insisted on sharing over dinner.

Actually. That was wrong. Colton had brought over beer and offered it, telling Tyler he could drink it or not and that Colton wouldn’t mind either way. He was good like that. He would offer and not take offence if Tyler begged off. It was one of the first things that Tyler had grown to like about him. Alongside the fact Colton basically looked like every fantasy he’d ever had come to life. That had been an aesthetic appreciation, which brought Tyler back to the freckles sprinkled across Colton’s nose and cheeks. He knew they spread down across Colton’s shoulders and down his arms and there was a bit of him that felt really smug at that, like he was in on a giant secret. 

Maybe he could work out a formula to calculate the number of freckles per inch of skin. Or the exact curvature of Colton’s perfect cheekbones. Or…

“You’re staring at me again.” Colton didn’t sound annoyed but his statement jolted Tyler out of his daze. “What were you thinking?”

“Freckles,” blurted Tyler. He shouldn’t say things, he should practice counting to ten and then come out with something sexy and suave and totally Bond-like. Maybe “Your shirt really shows off your muscles, baby” or “I was thinking of saving the world from hunger. Why? Do you find that hot?” (Colton did. He was a humanitarian. He liked dogs and small children much more than Tyler did, anyway).

Colton actually blushed. “Yeah. I know. I should wear more sunscreen but I forget and I have to go out.” He shrugged and slumped down on the sofa. “What else should we look at? Isn’t there some new Joss Whedon interview or something you wanted to watch?”

Tyler knew he wasn’t the most socially aware person. Like, at all. He probably would have a degree in social awkwardness if any reputable higher learning institution offered one. But Colton looking embarrassed about his freckles? That was just wrong. On so many levels.

“I was thinking about how much I love them. They're always changing and I can’t count them and they… They make you more perfect.” Tyler mumbled the last into his sleeve, shy suddenly. He thought Colton knew how he felt but he wasn’t entirely sure. After a moment of internalised panic, Tyler reckoned he was totally blaming the alcohol for this.

“You like my freckles?” Colton looked at him. It was sometimes hard to read Colton (or anyone’s) expressions. He was either shocked, angry or holding back a smile.

Tyler decided he was probably already humiliating himself enough that saying more wasn’t going to hurt. “You know I do. I like them. I like your cheekbones. I like your hair. I like the colour of your eyes. I want to calculate what percentage of different shades of blue they’re made up of. I want to count-“ Then Colton was kissing him. Like really kissing him. Tongue and everything. 

Maybe working out the freckle algorithm could be replaced with something else. Such as working out the perfect pressure with which to kiss Colton, the best way to tilt his head, the seamless way to angle up his hips so that their cocks brushed against each other perfectly.

“Stop thinking, Tyler.” Colton muttered the words as he broke the kiss to nose under Tyler’s jaw. “You can get the whiteboard out later. After you’ve come on my freckles.”

Maybe there was a perfect boyfriend formula but, Tyler realised, it would all equal Colton.


End file.
